


we were monsters

by ClementineKitten



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Angst, Gen, Headcanon, Missing Scene, i wrote this entire thing on my phone in less than an hour forgive me, major ndrv3 spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-12
Updated: 2017-12-12
Packaged: 2019-02-13 19:07:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12990594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClementineKitten/pseuds/ClementineKitten
Summary: [major ndrv3 endgame spoilers]“Do you miss it?”The end of the 53rd killing game leaves a lot of things up to interpretation.Here’s one scenario.





	we were monsters

“Do you miss it?”

Shirogane bites her lip. _I didn’t miss it, I don’t miss it, I don’t want this. I never wanted this._ Everything is so glorified on TV, looks so interesting. Fiction makes you want to tear it apart and climb inside, fall into the world, become one with the characters you love so much, make the story your own. Of course everyone wants to be a part of something bigger than themselves.

Everyone wants to be fictional.

_This killing game will continue until there are only two people left._

She killed the third.

“Yeah.”

She lies through her teeth.

It’s fucked up, right? It looks so fun when you watch it on a screen, you lean in close with your eyes wide, screaming or cheering or crying, letting it absorb your life. You think you want to be a part of it, you think you want this to be your legacy, you think, you think, you think.

You thought wrong. 

The fans want this. _No one_ should want this. It’s sick, it’s dehumanizing, it’s horrid. It’s like barbed wire binding your body, wrapping around you, digging into your skin with every breath and every movement. Why did they want this?

She can’t even remember. The memory of her audition flashes in her mind. Did she really used to be like that? She doesn’t feel like it. She feels numb, like her skin isn’t real, her blood is viscous and thick and isn’t flowing through her.

Oh well. Soon her memory will be wiped again, and she’ll be replaced with a new persona who lives for the thrill of spreading despair. Bile rises to the back of her throat at the thought.

She wonders if they’ll be able to change her personality completely while keeping her memories. Or maybe brainwashing? She remembered that in one of the fictional Danganronpa installments. 

I never wanted this. I take it back.

“Who do you think we’ll be with this season?”

Shirogane frowns. She doesn’t want to talk about it. She wants to lose herself in the madness, she wants to succumb to despair. All she wants to do is forget. Forget, forget, forget.

“I don’t know,” she answers distractedly. “I think I heard something about a detective,” she puts in, throwing him some fodder to think about. 

“Really? They’ll be helpful in class trials.”

“Doubt it. I saw their audition tape. Messed up shit. Wants to use their talent to commit murder,” Shirogane mumbles, fingering a strand of blue hair.

“That’s a shame.” He gives her an empty smile. “But that’s always how it is at the start, isn’t it?”

“Shouldn’t be. This is so fucked,” she curses angrily. 

“You never used to swear so much, Shirogane-san. It’s weird to hear,” he tells her. She crosses her arms.

“Amami-kun, are you looking forward to this?” she asks accusingly. The boy shrugs, a pensive look upon his pretty face. 

“What gave you that impression?” Shirogane looks through him, and he scratches the back of his head. 

“I’d say I’m interested in seeing how everyone reacts in this situation, especially because none of them will remember how they wanted this so damn bad.” Disgust drips from his words. “But I can’t really say that, because I won’t remember this conversation either.”

Shirogane says nothing. Amami continues to speak.

“Heard anything about the audience this time around? You’re the mastermind, so I would guess that you know what’s going on.” He sighs deeply. “I heard word of something to do with audience participation?”

“You’d be right,” Shirogane says vaguely. “Listen, Amami-kun, I really don’t want to talk about Danganronpa.”

“That’s a first,” he mumbles. “We all used to love it. We all used to adore it. It’s all we would want to talk about.” He smiles wanly. “This is so messed up.”

When Shirogane said nothing, Amami kept speaking. “Everything seems so nice and dramatic when you’re not the one with death looming behind you at every corner.”

Shirogane looks down at her hands. There, clear as day, she sees the blood of the third last survivor. She swallows. _I’m sorry, Akari-san._

_I’m sorry?_

_Why?_

_I wanted to live._

_God, I’m fucked up._

“I don’t want to talk about the 52nd,” she finally says to Amami. His eyebrows raise.

“Fair enough. Then let’s talk about the 53rd,” he offers. “A world where I’m not the Super High School Level Model and where you’re the mastermind.”

Shirogane grits her teeth. Is he just trying to rile her up? “Did you record your Survivor’s Perk video?” she asks calmly.

“Yeah.” Amami blows a strand of hair out of his eyes. “I don’t know why it’s necessary, though. The audience will already know I’m reappearing in the next season. They’ll know who I am,” he mutters. “It’s only a mystery to the other students.” 

“Huh,” Shirogane huffs quietly.

“I really beefed it up, though. I said that I had to win this killing game, no matter what.” He laughs, but it’s insincere and dies on his lips. “I mean, I don’t want to die yet. What do you think about that?” 

“I think you’re horrible.” Shirogane crosses her arms.

“I’d agree with that,” Amami muses. “But you are, too.”

“Yeah,” she mutters. She adjusts her glasses with a frown. The last killing game still leaves a bitter taste in her mouth when she thinks of it, like copper, acid on her tongue. “I don’t know why you need a video as well as a special Monopad,” she admits. 

“A consolation prize for a pyrrhic victory.” Amami offers her a shrug. “Who knows if the me in the future will even trust me from now?” he wonders aloud. “We’re not really going to be in a situation where you can trust others- or even yourself.”

“What are you saying?” Shirogane asks pointedly, becoming increasingly annoyed with his constant chatter. She clenches her fists.

It’s scary, how the killing game has trained her. Her first instinct to anger is to react like she’s gripping a weapon.

“Nearly fifty three seasons of lies and truths and trusts and belief and doubt. It’s kind of getting stale.” Amami adjusts the collar of his shirt. “I just want it to be over.”

“Stop complaining. We’re doomed to take part in the next killing game, so what point is there in whining?” Shirogane snaps. Amami looks at her, bemused.

“At the start of all this, you were agreeing with me. You’re kind of a bitch, mastermind.”

“And you’re kind of an asshole, Super High School Level Survivor.”

The tension between them is thick enough to slice with a knife. Shirogane relents. “Of course I think this is fucked. But you know what’s also fucked? Real people watching a ton of kids kill each other and try not to get caught. Real people who cheer for the students to find and confront the killer, and real people who relish in watching other real people be executed. They outlawed public execution for a reason, you know, and look at us now.” She looks down at her body. She looks ugly in the dim light. “We chose hope and this is what we get.” 

“Beggars can’t be choosers,” Amami murmured. “But I think that—”

“Shirogane! Amami! Stop conversing and help with the preparations!” barks a harsh voice from somewhere in the distance.

Amami shrugs. “Guess our time is up.”

“In more ways than one,” Shirogane adds. The two survivors shift and brush off their clothes.

“Oh, Shirogane-san, by the way…” Amami starts, resting his hand on her arm. She jumps slightly, startled by his touch. She looks up at his face and sees a horrifying expression staring back at her. His eyes are glassy and hollow, staring at him, clouded with some strong emotion…

Hatred. Pure, unbridled hatred flickers in the depths of his eyes like a fire. His eyes are filled with aversion and loathing, every synonym you could list off for disgust is accounted for.

“I hope you know,” he says in a hard voice, his gaze dark, “that I will end this killing game before it has the chance to start.” 

Shirogane takes a moment to speak. She gives him an empty look and a false, painted on smile. “And _I_ hope _you_ know,” she starts, removing his hand from her arm without breaking eye contact, “that I won’t let that happen.”

**Author's Note:**

> whoops i wrote this on my phone and also akari-san is a reference to an oc of mine  
> the end of v3 is so confusing dude this is something that could have happened i guess


End file.
